Non est verum
by Vitacazzo
Summary: Desmond finds himself back at his apartment after showing the Templars where the pieces of Eden are, only to find that his ancestor's own Apple has done something very strange indeed... Time-travel fic with possible Desmond x Altair pairing later on. Cover art by me, Vitacazzo on DeviantArt.
1. Chapter 1

**Attention: I've employed (kidnapped) Shaun to write the summaries for me so enjoy...**

 **Summary:** Didn't you read it when you clicked on this? No? Then you deserve to be confused.

 **Pairing:** Why would I know? It's not like she tells me anything *grumbles*

 **Warnings:** Oh, I don't know, death maybe?

 **Disclaimer:** My name is Shaun Hastings and I **DO NOT** own Assassin's Creed or any of the character's, voices, etc...and neither does she.

Shaun: Well now that's out of the way, can you let me go now?

Me: Nope :3

Shaun: What, why not?

Me: Shhhh...

Shaun: But-

Me: Shhhhhhhhhhhh!

Shaun: *Sits his snarky English ass back down*

* * *

Hey guys!

So it would appear that I've done it again, I've started a FanFiction that probably isn't going to get finished for over a year, sorry about that. But maybe you'll get lucky this time because I really like this fandom...like a lot...

So I've decided to be that person and use an incredibly over-used, cliched plot and try to make it my own somehow. Wish me luck :3

* * *

Desmond woke up to the smell of coffee. Panicking, he opened his eyes and shot out of bed, hidden blade at the ready.

He cursed when he realised that he wasn't Altair and didn't actually possess a weapon of any kind. But instead of seeing Vidic as he'd expected, he was surprised to look around and find no-one there.

He realised with shock evident on his face that he was back in his apartment in Queens. Looking around, everything was the same as it was when he left last week.

He almost laughed then. Left? Memories came flooding back of how he'd just got home from a long shift at work, when he dragged himself to the bathroom to take a shower, only to realise he was being ambushed as several men in black ninja-like suits had jumped him and smashed his head into the sink, effectively knocking him out.

Frowning, he went to check the bathroom and was surprised yet again when he found no blood on the sink at all. Had it all been a dream? No, it couldn't be, it felt too real and he could still feel the aches in his back where he'd been made to lie on the animus all day, every day, for a week.

He realised there was a very simple way of proving this to himself, something that even Abstergo couldn't cover up because he hadn't told anyone about it. He concentrated as he shifted into his second vision, Eagle vision. It worked.

It had to be true, all of it, there was no way he could have figured out how to use Eagle vision without living through Altair's memories first. But that still didn't explain what he was doing back at his apartment as if nothing had happened. He didn't get it, he'd unwittingly shown Vidic where the apples were and had fulfilled his use, why hadn't he been killed?

It just didn't make sense and thinking about it gave him a headache. He sighed and checked himself in the mirror, he was wearing baggy, blue pants , a green t-shirt and a black hoodie on top with a picture of a snarling white dog on and the word "DOWNLOAD" printed in big letters under it's head.

Desmond fought back the urge to growl, those Abstergo bastards were trying to play off his week absence by saying he'd been to a festival in England?! Damn, they were clever, that meant he couldn't tell anyone what had really happened or they'd just think he got high at the festival and imagined it. He felt like crying, the world was about to end and no one was going to believe him. Worst of all, it was his fault that the world was going to end, he knew he should've fought back against his captors. He was an assassin for fuck's sake. Surely he could take on an old man and a girl.

He stopped thinking for a second as he remembered Lucy and how she showed him she was on his side, he missed her. He hoped she'd be alright.

But back to the problem a hand, he was still facing the Templars and things were going to get a hell of a lot worse when they got their hands on a piece of Eden. He cursed, he couldn't just sit there and do nothing?

He turned from the mirror and ran to his room. Something was wrong, it looked too neat. Panic rose in his chest as he stalked over to his wardrobe, opened it wide, and worked at removing the wooden panel at the bottom. Relief was not the word when he found his duffel bag tucked away safely. Thank God they hadn't found it.

He took it over to his bed and went through it, everything was still there and he smiled, this was too good to be true.

He stripped and changed into something more bland, he chose a pair of blue jeans, a light green t-shirt and a white hoodie much like the one he wore at Abstergo. He knew he probably shouldn't wear it lest it remind him of what he went through but truth be told, he kind of liked it, it reminded him of the white assassin robes he'd seen all around Masyaf and only wished he had a red belt for his jeans.

He shrugged and left his outfit as it was, no need to draw any extra attention to himself.

He then took the hidden blade out of his duffel bag, one he'd stolen from the farm he'd grown up on, strapped it on and tested it, slashing at his bed sheets. Satisfied, he zipped up the bag, threw it over his shoulder and left the apartment, not bothering to lock it behind him, he'd left nothing important behind and he didn't plan on ever coming back.

* * *

Yeah! A medium length chapter, not bad for a prologue-ish sort of thing, huh?

Anyway, let me know what you think and I will update this in exactly...whenever the fuck I feel like it...sorry.

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Desmond finds himself back at his apartment after showing the Templars where the pieces of Eden are, only to find that Altair's own apple has done something super weird...that sound good?

 **Pairing:** Non as of yet, review if you have any ideas.

 **Warning:** *Shaun shouts "bunch of stupid idiots" from his closet*

 **Disclaimer:** I...I *sobs* I regret to inform you that *breaks down* I DO NOT OWN ASSASSINS CREED OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS! *cries in corner*

 **Sorry guys, Shaun is refusing to work for me until I agree to let him go, like that'll ever happen but don't worry, I'll find a way to make him talk for the next chapter ;)**

Shaun: *looks terrified*

Me: *smirks*

* * *

Hey peeps :3

So this is a relatively fast update for me and that's probably to do with the fact that it's too hot lately so I've just been sat on my ass drawing shirtless assassins for DeviantArt which you can check out on my profile - Vitacazzo

And yes, that does literally translate to "life fuck" lol

Anyhoo, enjoy this new chapter, honestly not sure when to expect the next one, sorry :/

* * *

Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, now Master Altair, paced his study, watching the other assassins milling about below him or sunning themselves in the garden. He sighed. After taking down Al Mualim and Robert de Sables, the Templar attacks on the local towns and villages had come to a standstill, as had the work of the assassins.

He almost wished for another power-hungry maniac, if only to give his brothers something to do.

He scowled as he saw Abbas Sofian ascending the stairs to the study, no doubt to ask about the Apple, again, and what he planned to do with it. He decided early on he couldn't care less about the Apple or whatever mysteries it held, and vowed to never use it no matter how much people like Abbas bugged him about it.

Given his way, Abbas would use the apple to control their enemies and have their allies blindly follow him. This disgusted Altair as it showed the true extent of the corruption that the Apple brought to those around it.

Having said that, Altair could not kid himself, deep down he knew that Abbas had always had this...darkness, inside of him. He was a determined young man but he craved power and this was something the master assassin could not condone.

He sighed and hurried off to his chambers, he could deal with Abbas another time.

He reached his room and fell down onto his bed, frowning as he pulled the Apple from his robes. What was he going to do with it? He'd tried hiding it in his study but was sure that Abbas had figured it out as he would catch the man snooping when he wasn't looking. So he just carried it around with him for now until he found a permanent home for it.

He studied the Apple silently, unsure of its power. He knew of its capabilities as a weapon but not so much of how it could benefit man. He turned it over a few times in his hand, thinking about the future of the assassins and how he fit into it when suddenly, the apple started to let off a glow in the darkened room.

Shocked he dropped the Apple onto his bed and stood back, had he done that? He shook his head, he refused to believe that he had given the Apple power over him, even for a moment.

As the glow dissipated, he tentatively picked it back up and placed it back in his robes, he needed to find a safe keeping place sooner rather than later for fear of losing his own mind as many before him had done when faced with the power of the Apple, he would not let it consume him.

As the master assassin turned to the door, making to speak with Abbas so he could get it over with, he was shocked to find his robes glowing golden, the glow growing stronger until it was radiating from his whole body. This wasn't right, he'd done nothing to activate it. Panicking, he reached for the Apple to set it down, his fear growing when he failed to locate it.

Unsure of what else he could do to stop the ghostly glow, he hurriedly began to strip off his clothing. Unsettled when this did nothing to stop the golden light emitted from his body. The Apple was no-where to be found and yet still, he could hear its gentle hum and see its distinct light. Cursing, he hesitantly took off his hood, it did nothing and now as he stood there in nothing but a cloth wrapped around his hips, the whole room became shrouded in a harsh golden light momentarily before everything went dark as the master assassin fell unconscious, drifting through time.

* * *

*sighs* Yes, I'm aware that more than half of this chapter is the word "he", "glow" or "Apple" and I'm sorry but their really weren't a lot of alternatives that I could think of. I'm stuck looking after my little sister with Spongebob Squarepants playing in the background while she screams the lyrics to Caramelldansen at my dogs :/ ...I'm so tired lol

And please don't hesitate to leave a review, it lets me know that you're enjoying the story and it's a great way to get your ideas put into the story, I'm writing this for you guys, don't forget that, okay?

And also, I'm sorry that I totally forgot to mention where the coffee smell was coming from in the last chapter, I'll explain it somehow in the next one lol

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	3. Chapter 3

Good news everyone! I got Shaun to work for me again!

Shaun: What? I didn't agree to th-

Me: *Smiles and closes door for moment* *screams of horror from other side* *opens door*

 **Summary:** Um, so...so Desmond um wakes up in er... in his old apartment and um and Abstergo um...yeah...and, and Altair time travels...I...I think...

 **Pairing:** Er...n-none...yet

 **Warning:** Death and v-violence...and explicit language?

 **Disclaimer:** I *gulps* I do...DO NOT um...own Assassin's Creed or-or any of th-the characters...and neither does she...

Shaun: Um...so...can I go now...please?

Me: *glares*

Shaun: Eek! *drinks tea in corner*

* * *

'Sup?

So this may officially be the fastest I've ever released a chapter so that's cool. And don't worry, I do plan on releasing Shaun...one day...maybe...

So yeah, please enjoy this chapter :3

* * *

Desmond fought the urge to turn back to look at his old apartment as he walked down 39th Street. It felt strange to be leaving but he knew that this was no longer a part of his life. He would miss the way he could hear his neighbours sneezing through his paper thin walls and how his carpets smelt of coffee, God knows he was clumsy to spill so much of it.

He sighed and turned left onto 50th Avenue, tuning out his thoughts as he began his 3 and a half hour journey to the airport.

He didn't really know where he was going but figured it wasn't safe for him to stay in New York, or even America for that fact so he tried to figure out which country would be best to hide in. After a few hours of thought, he settled on Syria. After his time in the Animus, living as Altair, he'd grown quite attached to the hot temperatures and the quaint towns - he sincerely hoped that things hadn't changed too much in the last 800 years.

He scoffed at this thought, he hadn't realised at first how long it had been, thanks to the Animus, he felt as though the crusades had only occurred yesterday, it was a strange feeling, loosing track of time like that. He shook his head, he was here.

He looked up at the huge, sweeping structure with a large, lit-up sign reading "Howard Beach JFK". *

Puffing out his chest and trying to look more like a confident holiday-goer than a shifty terrorist, he made his way over to the ticket desk and looked up at the flight board. He almost fainted seeing that there was a flight out to Damascus International Airport in two hours. He couldn't believe it and before he knew it, he'd forked over $512 for a ticket.

In the two hours leading up to the flight, he realised just how stupid he was. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it until now but there was a war in Syria, had been for over a year.

He cursed under his breath, how could he have been so stupid? He considered returning the tickets but something inside him wouldn't allow him, he supposed that was the part of him that felt safe and at home in Masyaf which was not far from Damascus.

He sighed and stood up, stretching his legs, before heading off to board the plane.

The 12 hour flight passed quickly and before he knew it, Desmond Miles was back in Damascus. Wait, was that really accurate? He'd never technically been here. He shook his head, this was too confusing.

He exited the airport and completely dismissed any ideas he may have had of booking a motel for the night as his feet moved of their own accord down the D34 towards Masyaf.

* * *

Okay, okay so this was more of a filler chapter than anything else but it got the story moving along, right?

Anyway, at least this proves that I can actually update my stories in a matter of days and not months.

If you're lucky, I might upload chapter 4 soon seeing as how literally nothing interesting happened in this chapter, sorry, but at least you know what the coffee smell was now :3

And again, please review to let me know how you feel about the story, I can't read minds lol

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Oh, really? You still don't know it? Pfft, it's another cliche time-travel fic about Altair and Desmond.

 **Pairing:** She still won't tell me her plans *grumbles*

 **Warning:** Death, Blood, violence...that kind of thing...

 **Disclaimer:** *sighs* I've been locked in a wardrobe for 4 days, you really think I'm a successful billionaire owner of a gaming franchise? Congratulations! You're stupider than you look! :)

* * *

Ah, as you can see, Shaun is doing his job again, it's all good.

I realised that I put an asterisk in the last chapter but never explained it so I'm going to do that here.

*JFK airport - I have no idea if this is geographically correct because I've never been to America but I did the best I could with Google Earth and Google Maps to work out how long journeys would take and how far apart places are. For example, it would take 50 hours to walk from Damascus airport to Masyaf castle. Also, the apartment on 39th street does actually exist if you really want to look it up, it's for sale right now so it's not like you can harass anyone...

So, yeah, anyway, another chapter down, only like 50 to go lol. Enjoy!

* * *

As he trekked towards the castle, Desmond realised he may have made a mistake, he had no idea how long it would take to walk all the way there, time passed differently inside the animus and, as Altair, he'd always taken a horse between towns and it really didn't help that buildings and roads had cropped up all over the place over the last 800 years.

He sighed as he forced himself on, making a note to stop at the first rest stop he saw.

He was glad as it got darker as it gave him some relief from the heat but once night-fall came, he realised the temperature dropped very quickly and soon found himself shivering. 'Great' he thought 'Of course I'd choose the place with the most unstable temperature in the world to stay for the rest of my life'.

He realised with a start that he was walking across a freaking desert without food or water. He cursed to himself and hoped he made it to Masyaf without collapsing.

By the next day, he was tired and disoriented and close to collapse when he heard a young boy shouting in what he was assumed to be Arabic, he was too tired to really pay any attention. He panicked as he saw the boy running towards him, followed by a stern looking man who was, basically ripped. Desmond made an attempt to run away from them but the few steps he was able to take took it out of him as he promptly fell unconscious.

He awoke to a young boy shouting "Alab! Alab!" which he recognised as 'Father'. He turned his head to see the frighteningly large man from earlier approaching him and putting a hand on his shoulder. He thought he caught something like "Rest well" before he passed out again.

After coming around for the second time, he got to meet the family that had saved his life properly. It was hard as he hadn't had to speak arabic outside of the animus before but somehow he supposed he'd just picked it up. He learnt that the boy was called "Rami" and his father's name was "Kareem". He didn't catch the mother's name but figured it didn't matter as he just referred to her as "Sayidati" (Madam).

He took the offered food and drink and thanked the family for their hospitality as he told them he needed to be on his way. Though he was unsure of what to say when they asked where he was going. He realised with a start, he hadn't actually bothered to think if Masyaf castle was still standing or if anyone actually lived in it.

He blushed, cursing his own stupidity, before asking if the castle still stood. He was relieved to say the least when he found it did but was slightly disheartened to learn that time had not been kind to it and it was close to ruins after a millennia of standing.

He also found that although the castle didn't give tours, it still attracted tourists because of its rich history. He supposed this was better than he'd expected as he knew all the secret areas where he would not be bothered by tourists.

He thanked the family once again, giving the young boy, Rami, a dollar bill to remember him by and smiling before taking his leave.

He'd learned that he was only a day's walk away from the castle by now which he supposed was good. He'd also been given a canteen that contained a day's supply of water for which he was thankful.

He smiled back at the house and the waving family in the doorway before continuing his trek, he had a feeling he was going to really like it here.

He finally arrived at Masyaf castle late the next day, smiling up at it. He welcomed the feeling of nostalgia as he admired the view, it really hadn't changed much at all. The majority of the middle structure was missing, the whole building being level at its highest point and the turrets were no longer there after years of wearing away but he could still recognise the rest of the castle.

Walking up the side of the mountain, he wasn't really surprised to see that there were buildings built into the side. At least they didn't seem to be inhabited.

As Desmond reached the front of the castle, he discovered that the entrance was closed off. Smiling to himself, he just went off to the right, and climbed up the wall that led into the tower. He found that this was also boarded up but was easy to kick in.

Not wanting to leave a trace, he propped the wooden panel back where it had been, putting a nearby rock behind it to stop it from falling over, not that it was exactly breezy around here.

He walked on, not stopping to admire the castle interior as he was anxious to find somewhere he could sleep inside. Moving straight through the castle to the left tower, he found the old chambers where the novice's slept. He then realised that he'd never actually been to Altair's room but figured it would probably be at the top of the tower. Sure enough, in the second to top floor, he found the Master Assassin's rooms. Although he figured Altair probably spent the better part of his life sleeping in the Grandmaster's chambers, he still felt better sleeping in the same room he'd have slept in, in his time as Altair.

Desmond checked each room, one by one, for whichever seemed the most habitable, finding two with blankets and cushions in the corner. He chose the slightly larger room and set down his things, thankful to at least have a bed. He'd set out for the town below in the morning to find a bank to change his currency and to buy supplies, If anyone asked, he would say he was a tourist camping on the mountain.

He allowed himself to fall back on the bed, blinking his eyes wearily when he notices words carved into the wall above his head, he studied them momentarily. Then his eyes caught the words "الطائر ابن لا أحد " He thought for a moment, recognising these words from somewhere, he thought them over in his head "The Flying Eagle, Son of None" before it clicked, reading it aloud phonetically in Arabic, he almost fell back in surprise as he realised that these words read "Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad".

He laughed to himself, of course he'd end up in this room, this was just too weird. He soon fell asleep with a smile on his face, for the first time he could remember, he was genuinely satisfied with his life.

Desmond dreamt of scaling buildings in Jerusalem in the 12th century, the comforting feel of the hidden blade nestled around his fore-arm and the hood covering his face from suspicious templars. He had no targets in mind and simply ran across rooftops, laughing out loud, uncaring of those below that thought he was drunk. As if a drunk man could perform acrobatic feats such as these.

He didn't even care that the laughter sounded foreign in his ears, that the voice, the body, the weapons and the clothes weren't even his. For the first time, he had full control over what happened and he was damn well going to enjoy it.

He woke up with a start as he heard something across the room, he glared into the dark but neither saw nor heard anything else so he led back on the pillows to fall asleep again. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the velvety comfort of sleep once again, beckoning him, when suddenly, he felt something cold and sharp against his throat.

He groaned, bloody Templars, couldn't they make up their mind. He made to voice his thoughts when he was surprised by a hand covering his mouth. This wasn't right, Templars didn't work like this. He struggled against the man above him, trying his best to kick him in the balls but the man quickly caught on and knelt on his legs.

Panicking, Desmond shifted into his eagle vision, he didn't know why, or what it was going to do but found himself in it anyway. The fact that the man above him showed up in a blue hue more than surprised him, this evident by the surprised yelp he let out.

He heard the man above him, his _ally_ , growl something by his ear but didn't really catch it. The blade pressed closer to his neck and Desmond let out a whimper as he felt it draw blood. He immediately stopped striggling completely and felt a tear roll down his cheek to mingle with the droplets of blood on his neck.

"Min 'ant?" (who are you?) the voice growled out by his ear. Desmond tried to answer but was stopped by the hand over his mouth, he rolled his eyes as the man took a moment to realise that he couldn't talk.

"If you shout, I will not hesitate to cut your throat. Understood?" the man whispered in Arabic

Desmond nodded as best he could. Relieved when the hand moved away from his mouth, allowing him to explain himself to the man. The blade, however, stayed.

"Who are you?" the man asked again.

Desmond pondered what he should and shouldn't say. He realised that his foreign accent probably wouldn't put the man at ease so he really wanted to avoid talking. He thought of how the man showed up as an ally in eagle vision and how the metal against his throat felt like that of a hidden blade. He slowly raised his left arm and activated his own hidden blade, hoping he was right.

The man above him was silent for a moment before he moved his blade away from Desmond's neck.

Relieved was not the word as Desmond rubbed at his throat, pulling his hand away to gaze at the red liquid on his index and middle finger. He refrained from moving too much until instructed by the man above him.

"Up, novice" he commanded.

Desmond scowled at this but said nothing as he turned to face the man who, even in the dark, looked strangely familiar.

"What is your name?" he asked.

Desmond realised he could hardly answer this questions with another flick of his blade so he spoke slowly so as not to agitate the man.

"My name is Desmond Miles. May I enquire as to why exactly you assume that I am a novice?" He tried hard to refrain his scowl on the last few words but failed.

"Des...mond...your name is strange." This alone angered Desmond, how dare he! The naked man who threatened his life moments ago was daring to call him strange, he ought to...wait...naked? He honestly hadn't noticed at first but the man in front of him was wearing nothing but his underwear and a hidden blade. Desmond had to stifle a laugh at the sight.

As if he hadn't even noticed his lack of clothing, the man continued, "and as to why I called you a novice, there are three reasons. One being that a novice would not show their hidden blade to as stranger. Two, an assassin of higher rank would easily have been able to handle a situation like that. And three..." Here he smirked slightly, "anyone else would know not to sleep in MY bed".

Desmond paled. 'surely...it can't be...'

"Who are you?" He felt his lips moving to ask this question before it had even formed in his head.

The man stood up and walked over to the other bed, picking up one of the blankets and tying it around his waist, for which Desmond was grateful.

He walked back over to the side of what was apparently his own bed, smiling lightly. "My name" he paused to adjust his makeshift clothing, "is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad".

Desmond fainted.

* * *

 **ATTENTION: So I've decided to change my name on here, sorry for any confusion. I've updated my name for this story but I've lost my other stories so it'll take a while before I can edit them so sorry. The reason for changing my name is because Vitacazzo is my name on DevantArt and I figured it would be less confusing for everyone if I had the same name on both sites so...yeah...sorry lol**

So anyway, I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written lol, it really wanted to be split into two parts but I just kept on writing because once Altair showed up, I just couldn't stop lol.

And again, you are very welcome for this fast update :3

Thank you to all the people that followed and/or favourited this story, it lets me know that at least some people out there think its worth writing, even if there are literally hundreds out there with the same plot lol.

And please review to let me know what you think :p

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** *sighs* if you don't know it by now, you need a special kind of help. Desmond blah blah blah Templars blah blah Altair blah...you get the picture.

 **Pairing:** Again, non as yet, if you review and suggest a pairing, she'll probably add it.

 **Warning:** Really? As in...really? Are you retarded?

Me: Shaun!

Shaun: What?! What did I say?

Me: *sighs*

 **Disclaimer:** Blah blah blah DO NOT OWN blah blah! There, that good enough?

Me: It'll have to do

Shaun: *looks smug*

Me: Grrr, sit your ass down!

Shaun: Correction; sit your arse do-

Me: Now, bitch! *slaps*

Shaun: *sniffles* I'm not a bitch...

* * *

Okay, so another chapter, once again in record time. See? I told you I liked this fandom.

Also, for anyone who cares, I've finally gotten around to learning Arabic, Italian took me forever because I kept getting it confused with Spanish and Danish is still taking forever because no-one teaches it but at least I've finally started on Arabic, I don't know many words yet but I just finished learning the alphabet...fun :/

And thank you to Rogue8496 who reviewed, it's good to know you like the story, cliche though it is. And look, I'm continuing just like you asked lol, hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

As Desmond slowly came to, he groaned and tried to open his eyes but it was so dark he could barely tell when they were open. 'Great' he thought, 'stuck in the dark with the greatest assassin in history'. He surprised himself with this thought, he'd almost forgotten about the revelation of Altair.

He looked around, blinking against the darkness, this wouldn't do. He switched to eagle vision and sat up, no blue anywhere to be seen. Confused, he stood up slowly so as not to black out again and began to wander the castle. Had it all been a dream?

He reached up to his throat and gasped in pain as he prodded at the wound on his neck that had begun to heal. Nope, definitely not a dream.

After pacing the length of the whole castle several times, he gave up and went back to his...Altair's room. He fell down with the intent of sleep when a thought occurred to him.

He pushed himself up again and walked over to the right tower, climbing the ladder to the top floor where he had performed his first leap of faith as Altair. He wasn't at all surprised to see said man perched on one of the beams overlooking the valley below. This was, after all, where it all began, unless you counted Solomon's temple but something told Desmond that Altair never wanted to go back there.

He approached the Master Assassin, throwing a blanket towards him, surprised as the man caught it mid-air without turning around. He smiled to himself, damn reflexes.

As Altair pulled the second blanket around his shoulders, Desmond sat down next to him, legs hanging over the edge of the tower wall.

They were silent for a moment simply surveying the view while Desmond tried to think of what to say, when Altair spoke.

"I am in the future, correct?"

Desmond, surprised, simply nodded dumbly.

Altair sighed, "The Apple..." he paused, glancing at Desmond and seeming satisfied when he nodded to show he knew of the Apple, "It has shown me...visions...of this place, this...time"

"What did you see?" asked the young novice.

"I saw...you" replied Altair, noting the surprise on the younger's face before continuing, "I tried not to use it, knowing well of the chaos and corruption it brings, but it beckoned to me, I could feel it calling and knew I had to use it lest I be driven mad by lust"

Desmond took this moment to helpfully chime in with the fact that the modern meaning of the word 'lust' was 'sexual desire'. Altair glared at him before continuing.

"So I gave in, I was weak...but the things I have seen", his eyes clouded over as he looked over the valley.

"You weren't weak" Desmond spoke softly, bringing Altair back, "You used the Apple without being consumed by it's power, that makes you strong, really strong."

He could have sworn he saw the scarred mouth of his elder twitch up at that.

"So, um...why are you naked?" The moment ended as the Master Assassins head whipped around, a second later he was halfway across the room, storming off. Desmond followed him to his room and watched silently as he cut up the blankets on his bed with his hidden blade, transforming them into crude items of clothing.

Desmond laughed as Altair struggled to tie on his makeshift pants as he'd cut them too small.

"How about, first thing in the morning, I go buy you some clothes?" he offered

Altair shrugged and gave up with the shredded cloth and let it fall to the floor, causing Desmond to blush as the man stood confidently in nothing but his hidden blade and a blanket around his shoulders. He coughed and turned away, waiting for the man to tie something around his...bits.

Said man didn't seem to catch on straight away as he asked what was wrong with the young novice before him.

Desmond scoffed at this, "You're fucking kidding me?"

Altair was silent for a minute before replying with, "Your words are strange". And leaving it at that.

The younger man rolled his eyes and stepped over to his duffel bag, pulling out a spare pair of pants and a shirt. He seriously doubted the shirt would fit the man's muscled frame but decided the pants should be alright.

He stalked up to the older man and held out the pants, head turned away in embarrassment. He felt the pants being taken out of his hand and walked over to the bed where he sat, back turned for what seemed like an eternity.

"Are you decent yet?" he finally asked but frowned when he heard no reply. He turned around to find the man asleep on the other side of the room.

Sighing, he lowered his own head, in order to catch an hour or so of extra sleep before he went to buy supplies in the morning.

"Sleep well, brother" he whispered into the darkness before he felt sleep's embrace.

* * *

Yay! Chapter 5. I'm getting pretty good at releasing on time chapters, now watch me just forget about this story until next year like I did with We Could Try, oops.

So yeah, once again, thanks to Rogue8496 for reviewing.

Please don't forget to review if you have feedback, positive or negative, or if you have a suggestion for the story. Or if you just want to say "hi" idk.

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: Aaargh! How stupid are these people? Why do they need to be reminded of the summary at the start of every single bloody chapter? Fuckin' hell! Fine! Altair is thrown back through time thanks to the apple, where he meets Desmond. Will that suffice? Are you satisfied by my explanation? No? Well, tough shit!

Pairing: Damnit, how many times? I DON'T KNOW!

Warning: ...really?

Disclaimer: For the love of...NEITHER I, OR THE PIECE OF SHIT HOLDING ME HOSTAGE, OWN ASSASSINS CREED OR ANYTHING IN IT!

Me: Umm...are you done?

Shaun: *pants*

Me: You realise I'm going to have to punish you for calling me a piece of shit?

Shaun: *glares* Fuck you.

Me: Tsk! Tsk! This won't do, come along Mr hostage, I'll have to find a new way to tame that rude little tongue of yours.

Shaun: *looks terrified* W-wait, please...please don't do THAT again

Me: :)

* * *

Hello :3

So, I would call this a well-timed update, not too soon, not too late. I think I'm getting the hang of it.

Thanks to SkittleBunny117 for the review. I'm glad to hear you're liking the story so far and I hope you find this chapter to be up to your standards lol. Happy reading.

* * *

Desmond awoke to the most hilarious sight he'd ever witnessed. Altair Ibn-la'ahad, Grandmaster Assassin, _The_ Altair, had rolled off the bed and was drooling a puddle onto the floor in nothing but a pair of pants that barely fit him and his hidden blade which was currently activated. Desmond only just managed to stifle a laugh when the elder assassins blade arm began to twitch as he slashed through Templars in his dreams.

He failed, however, to contain a small snort when the Master Assassin began to murmur threats in his sleep. It was more of a nose exhale than a snort really but apparently Altair was a ridiculously light sleeper as he shot up at the sound, hidden blade at the ready, looking fierce and not at all as though he'd only just woken up, which he had.

"Whoa!" Desmond laughed "calm down"

Altair lowered his arm, deactivating the blade as he looked around in confusion before he remembered where and when he was. For a second, he looked like he was about to cry before he composed himself, coughing in embarrassment as he wiped the drool from his chin.

"So.." he began, clearing his throat as his words were still heavy with sleep, "when do we begin our journey for supplies?"

Desmond blinked. 'Right...supplies' he thought. He'd forgotten for a moment that they were living in a crumbling castle in Syria, a country ravaged by war, with no food, water, or fitted clothing.

He sighed and stood, motioning for Altair to follow him, "we might as well go now, while it's early and we won't be noticed by too many people."

The elder assassin seemed to accept this as he followed the younger man to the other tower where they made their way past the wooden barrier and down the slope to the front of the building before setting off down the mountain towards the town.

Once they reached the foot off the mount, they realised their mistake. The whole town was crawling with guards, no doubt stationed to control the people. Altair growled and made to take out the closest man before Desmond put an arm infront of him, stopping him.

"I'll deal with this okay, you just stay here, we don't need to be drawing any extra attention to ourselves", he motioned to the elder man's bare chest.

Scowling, the master assassin accepted that he wasn't going to be of much use here so he sat on a small rock behind the stone wall that wound it's way towards Masyaf castle.

Desmond nodded and set off towards the nearest stall, trying his best to appear somewhat confident, even if he was terrified on the inside. This early in the morning, there were no crowds to blend into, no one he could walk with, so he wasn't particularly surprised when a man in uniform shouted him over.

He gulped, and approached the man who eyed him curiously. "Have you got any I.D. on you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Desmond nodded and fumbled around in his bag, reaching for his passport.

"Ah, American? I should have guessed" the man laughed. Desmond was surprised to find the guard to be so good natured. "Well kid, I'll let you go but I'd be careful around here if I were you" he warned.

Desmond smiled politely but was admittedly confused, what did he mean 'be careful'? He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he purchased the supplies he needed from a young woman before heading back to Altair.

When he reached the wall, he was surprised to find the elder assassin to be missing and looked around in confusion. He opened his mouth to call out when someone ambushed him, slapping a hand to his mouth and pushing him to the floor.

He grunted as the air was knocked out of him and turned to find Altair hovering over him. He scowled and pushed the older man off of him and sat up to face him.

"What the hell was that f-"

"Silence!" hissed the older assassin, boring holes with his eyes into Desmond.

"Tarajue! Why the hell would you attack me?" He growled.

"Tarajue?" questioned the master assassin before shaking his head. "What sorcery is this, that a Templar would act in a friendly manner to an assassin?"

Desmond frowned, "Templar? Altair, that man is just a normal guard, he works in the army"

"Yes, the Templar army" growled Altair.

"No, you-" Desmond fought to regain his patience and sighed, "Many things have changed in the time you have been gone Altair"

For a moment there was silence before Altair stood up and commanded that Desmond do the same. Grudgingly, he obeyed but told himself it was only because the floor was uncomfortable and dirty.

The master assassin set off back towards the castle, clearly expecting the younger to follow. Desmond sighed and did so, hoping that soon he would get some answers.

* * *

Okay so I could carry on but I already know what's going to happen in the next part and I know it'll probably be quite long so I figured I'd just give you a little chapter to nibble on while I write the next part :3

I hope you enjoyed.

The next chapter is basically just going to be a catch-up chapter where Desmond and Altair (and you, the reader) get some answers to all of the questions the last few chapters have raised and more.

Oh, almost forgot, "tarajue" is arabic for "fuck off". The f-word wasn't actually invented until the 15th century so Altair wouldn't have recognised it, or any other swear word other than "Damn", "Darn" and possibly "Cunt". I can't believe how uch research I've had to do for this story lol

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary:** This is a crappy story, written by a complete arse. That's your summary.

 **Pairing:** Me and Rebecca? No? Okay, never mind :(

 **Warning:** Nothing at all, this is a wonderous tale of love and friendship with absolutely no death or violence in at all -_-

 **Disclaimer:** I own Ass Creed and all of it's characters, even the goats in AC3 (not!)

Shaun: So, the author's actually taking a shit right now, a massive shit, one so big it's ripping her anal passage open so she won't be writing today.

Me: Fuck you Shaun! I'm just ill, not ill enough to stop you from escaping but ill enough to be completely unable to write :( I guess you'll have to write this chapter.

Shaun: Me? What do I know about writing stories, I just write databases and, entertaining as they are, I wouldn't exactly call myself an amazing author...well maybe I would but that's beside the point. I don't want to write your shitty story :(

Me: Pleeeeease? *coughs*

Shaun: No

Me: I'll let you go

Shaun: Really?

Me: Mmhmm

Shaun: Okay, so um Desmond followed the scary murdery guy to the castle and then Rebecca showed up and she said "Wow, I wish Shaun was here to hold me and comfort me in this scary place and to protect me from the war with his incredibly hot body and incredible mind and-

Me: STOP! God, you're awful at this! I'll just write it myself *grumbles*

Shaun: But you're still letting me go right?

Me: I was never actually going to let you go, you ass-tard.

Shaun: *cries in the corner*

* * *

Wow, okay so sorry for the long intro there lol and for Shaun's arsey-ness. I guess I'll just get straight to the story to make up for lost time,

Enjoy! :3

* * *

Once back at the castle, Desmond continued to follow Altair as he climbed the tower to where they had stared out at the valley the day before. They each took up a beam and sat in silence for a moment before Altair spoke.

"How long has it been?" he asked, apprehension evident in his tone.

Desmond licked his lips, unsure how the elder assassin was going to take the following news, "Eight-hundred and twenty years..." he replied quietly, "give or take"

He looked over when silence followed to see the master assassin looking away, shoulders shaking lightly. He decided that Altair needed some privacy and excused himself to go sort through the supplies he'd bought. The older man said nothing as he left.

After re-organising all of his equipment and supplies for what must have been the hundredth time, Desmond decided to go see if Altair was ready to continue their conversation, God knows he needed some answers right now.

He peeked his head up through the entrance in the floor to see the man staring vacantly off into the distance as he has yesterday. Shuffling over to the master assassin, he placed a hand on his shoulder, surprised when the man didn't even react or try to throw him off, if there was one thing he knew, Altair hated intimate contact and would only allow under very specific circumstances with those that he trusted and Desmond doubted that he had gained the man's trust just yet.

"Altair?" he questioned, receiving a questioning murmur, "I have some questions"

"As do I" sighed the man infront of him.

"Well lets take it in turns then, you can go first" he offered.

The elder assassin smiled slightly at this and thought about what to ask first.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of silence, he asked "What does 'tarajue' mean?"

Desmond had to fight hard not to laugh and bit down on his tongue to control his reaction. It didn't work as he doubled over and let out a snort.

"Really? That's your question?" he asked incredulously, "You've just been thrown 800 years into the future and met a man who looks just like you, sleeping in your bed, and you want to know what 'tarajue' means?"

Alatir raised an eyebrow at the younger man's reaction which Desmond just laughed at.

"Okay fine, I'll tell you" he relented, pausing to think of how best to explain the meaning of 'fuck off' to a 12th century master assassin.

He explained how the phrase meant "go away" and how it was related to the word "alllaena" which meant "fuck".

Altair just looked at him, confused. Desmond struggled to think of a better explanation when a thought struck him, "Um, Altair...you _do_ know what a swear word is, don't you?"

The man shook his head and Desmond groaned, this could take a while. He explained how some words were bad and deemed rude and innapropriate and went on to count of the names of such words on his fingers, further confusing Altair at the mention of phrases like "cocksucker" and "motherfucker" before his head perked up at the word "cunt".

"Ah, I know that one" he declared, seeming proud of himself. Desmond chuckled and asked if he knew what it meant. The older man blushed at this, and remained silent.

Desmond laughed, "I'll take that as a yes then".

He went on naming all the swear words he could think of until he began to get to the stranger ones that he'd never actually heard aloud before, including, "Assbadger", "Twatwaffle", "Douche Canoe", "fucknugget", "Jizz-inhaling gerbilfucker" and "Cumguzzling Thundercunt"

He took a moment to catch his breath once he'd finished before panting out, "and now...you know...what 'tarajue' means...fuck"

He glanced over at Altair who was trying to process everything that he'd just heard before seemingly giving up and saying "Fair enough, you may ask your question now"

Desmond grinned and asked who the older assassin shared a room with. To which he simply replied with, "I have no idea what you are talking about"

"Oh, cut the crap, there are _two_ beds in your room, surely their not both for you?" he questioned.

The older assassin cleared his throat and murmured something.

"What was that" pressed Desmond.

"I said I'd rather not say" replied Altair before shoving off Desmond's hand from his shoulder as if he'd only just noticed it was there.

"Well that's not fair, I answered your pointless question" pointed out the young novice.

Altair growled. "These questions are quickly becoming tiresome, we ought to focus on the problem at hand, I have not consumed any food or drink since I arrived here yesterday and am still lacking the majority of my clothing"

Desmond sighed, "Fine, we'll get something to eat and drink and I'll kit you out in some proper clothes and then we'll continue this conversation"

The older assassin looked annoyed but agreed regardless, glad that he was getting a meal.

They made their way back to the bedroom and sat down on their respective sides, Desmond on Altair's bed and Altair on the mystery pile of cushions.

Desmond went through his bag, reaching for the clothing he'd purchased for Altair and passing it to him. He turned back to the bag as the man changed and pulled out some weird Syrian food he'd bought. He passed a container to the older assassin before looking down at his own.

It looked like a plain yoghurt on top of some bread with salad. He took a bite. It was yoghurt, bread and salad! 'Who the hell would eat this crap?' he thought, glancing over at Altair to see him sniffing at his own container and scrunching his face up in disgust.

"What is this piece of _hamara_?" he asked, trying to make use of one of the swear words he'd learned earlier.

Desmond chuckled, "It's called a fatteh, I think and it's pronounced ' _hamaqa_ ' (crap), not ' _hamara_ '."

"Well then what is a _hamara_?" questioned the older man.

"A _hamara_ is an ass", replied Desmond, patiently. God knows how difficult it was going to be to explain every little detail to the man, especially when he had to explain everything in Arabic.

"Hey Altair?" he asked.

"What is it?" replied the older man, still glaring suspiciously at his fatteh container.

"Can you speak English?" he hadn't realised at first how much he was hoping for a 'yes' but as he waited for Altair to take a bite of his food, scrunch up his face in disgust, force himself to swallow it, stick out his tongue and spit out the taste, the tension mounted and Desmond became increasingly impatient.

Finally, Altair put down the bowl and turned to face him, "What is 'Inglish'?".

Desmond groaned.

"It's the language I speak" he explained.

The older man just stared at him, confused. "What are you talking about? You speak Arabic like me"

"Well, yeah, but Arabic isn't my first language, I live in America where they speak English, I only know Arabic because of the animus"

"What's an animus?" asked the man.

Desmond realised that Altair still didn't really know anything about him at all. He sighed, "Better get settled, this is a long story, full of crazy and weird"

Altair frowned but shifted around, making himself comfortable.

The younger man smiled, this should be fun...

* * *

Okay, so that's chapter 7, officially the longest fic I've ever written so go me!

I'm really tired right now btw but serves me right for trying to update twice in one day (shame).

Sorry for any inconsistencies, mistakes, etc. I've not spellchecked because I'm going to bed but if its really that bad then just stop reading and read it tomorrow instead, I'll check through it and have it updated by noon.

Leave a review to let me know what you think, I dont bite (unless you're cute and totally into it :3 )

Vale,

Vitacazzo


	8. Chapter 8

Summary: *cough* Dezmun an Alteer end up in da same tyme.

Pairing: None *cough* none az of yet.

Warning: *groan* Stoopid *cough* bloody *sniffles* idiots *sneezes*

Disclaimer: Urgh, I...we...do not own *sniffle* we do not own *cough* Assassin's Creeeee *barfs*

Shaun: Ugh, you gave me your illness.

Me: Oops :3

Shaun: *groans*

Me: Serves you right for being an arse in the last chapter

Shaun: *glares*...*runs to bathroom* *various splashing, chunky noises are heard*

Me: Fucking lol

* * *

Hey!

So 8 chapters huh? Wow, I guess I'm in for the longhaul. When I've written a few more, I might end up sticking some together if they're kind of short, maybe.

Thanks again for the favourites and follows, lets me know that you're liking the story and again, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes or things that don't make sense, I've not thoroughly checked each chapter yet but I'll get round to it...someday...

In the meantime, enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

"You are a liar!" roared Altair. "how can you expect me to believe such things?!"

Desmond tried drastically to calm the man down, putting a hand on his shoulder and speaking in a calm voice, "Look, I know it's a lot to take in but why would I lie to you?"

"Perhaps" mused the elder man, "you are a Templar spy"

Desmond inwardly groaned, they'd been through this already, hadn't they? "I thought we'd established that I'm an assassin, not a Templar"

"Then why are you not missing a finger?" questioned the man.

"Jesus Christ, how many times?" asked the younger man, "It's been eight hundred years, Altair! Eight hundred! Some things, hell, most things have changed from your time. We don't lose our ring fingers, we don't wear fancy robes, we don't kill in public - unless it's from a distance - and we don't all live together in a fancy ass castle, okay?" he panted, talking to the older assassin was frustrating to say the least.

Altair took a moment to process all of this information before replying with "I still do not believe that you have lived my life from inside my body, through my own eyes with this _animus_ of yours" he looked over at Desmond and frowned, "However, I can hardly refute the fact that you look exactly like me, aside from having darker hair and eyes. It would be silly not to consider the fact that you may well be my ancestor, even if you are a liar and possibly a Templar..."

Desmond sighed, that would have to do. It was the best he was going to get from the master assassin for now.

Counting his losses, he stood up and stretched his legs for a moment, his left foot had fallen asleep after so long sat down, telling his story. After he was satisfied with the feeling regained in his toes, he sat back on the bed and reached into his bag, pulling out a bottle of water for each of them. He tossed one over to Altair who looked at it suspiciously.

"Drink up" he ordered, causing Altair to scoff and state that he did not take orders from novices, "fine then, die of thirst"

Grudgingly, the older assassin lifted the bottle to his lips and drank half of it in a few long gulps, staring at Desmond as he did so.

Once he had quenched his thirst, he marveled at the bottle - an invisible forcefield capable of containing liquids. "What sorcery is this?"

Desmond sighed, how long did he have to put up with this? "Not sorcery, plastic. It's a material created after your time that can be any color - including see-through. It's quite soft so you can bend it and break it but it's hard enough to hold water so we make containers out of it - like the water skins you use."

Altair must have either decided his explanation would suffice or didn't really care as he stood up and paced the room momentarily - deciding what he should do next.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke, "You will show me all the wonders of this time so I might master all available skills".

Desmond snorted, "Showing and explaining everything that's been invented since the 12th century would take longer than both our lifetimes, let's just start with the basics".

Apparently this would do as the master Assassin nodded. Desmond acknowledged this by standing up and stretching before turning back to the cushions, bending over and searching through his bag for things to show Altair.

He was acutely aware of said man hovering behind his back and trying to get a good look in over his shoulder, but he just blocked him out.

After several moments of searching, he decided to simply empty the whole bag onto the floor, which earned him another confused stare.

Among the objects now coating the space between them was something that caught Altair's eye. He leant forward and picked it up, poking and prodding at it. It was a blue, flat square made from some sort of soft material and yet it shined, like metal.

He looked at Desmond, the question evident in his golden eyes.

Interestingly enough, Desmond had managed to turn a rather fascinating shade of red during the inspection as he coughed and looked to his left.

"What is this?" came the question and Desmond fought against a groan, this was easily the most awkward situation he'd ever been in.

"It...It's um...well. it's called a condom.", he paused, hoping like hell that Altair would move on.

"And what does it do? What is it's purpose?"

He couldn't really avoid that question but he tried anyway, "Um...it...it...oh, look," he reached for small handheld mirror among the contents on the floor, but his hand was slapped away,.

"I know what a mirror is, now tell me about this 'condom', I have to know all of it's secrets."

Fighting the urge to jump out of the fucking window, Desmond sighed and launched into a slow explanation, "It's used for...sexual purposes. A man...um, wears it on his...you know...and then it stops the woman from...er, getting pregnant. Or it stops a man or woman from getting ill from any diseases you might have".

He sincerely hoped that was enough and that the man before him would let the conversation drop but he had no such luck.

"No, I do not know. Where does the condom go?", he looked rather annoyed at this point by all of Desmond's stuttering and half assed explanations.

The younger man growled his anger and shouted, "His dick! His cock" His meat and two veg, what the fuck do you even call it?! His genitals?! Yeah, a man sticks a condom on his fucking genitals and then he has sex with a man or woman, the condom stops them from getting ill or pregnant. Will that suffice?"

He asked the last question in a calmer tone but the annoyance was still clear in his voice.

The room was silent for a moment before Altair spoke again, "It is forbidden to lie with a man, any man that does so shall be killed. This is the way it has been for hundreds of years."

The younger man sighed again, did he have to explain every fucking little thing? "In this time, you can be with whoever you like. A man and a man, a woman and woman, whatever. No one gets killed and everyone is allowed to love who they want".

Again, they were silent while Altair gathered his thoughts before speaking once more, "This sounds like a better time to live in. A time of acceptance and peace".

Desmond was actually kind of surprised at that, he half expected the stoic master Assassin that was stubborn and stuck to his ways to call him a liar and attempt to stone him to death. He was glad that Altair seemed to grasp the concept quite well. But still, there was a slight problem with his understanding, "Don't get me wrong," he began, "It's not like what Assassins work for, there isn't peace in all things. Just because it's generally accepted, doesn't mean everyone agrees. Some countries - including this one - still kill people if they find out about their sexuality. And that's not all. There's still a war going on in Syria, but not just between the Templars and Assassins. The ordinary people fight for their beliefs and are trained in the army."

Altair looked thoughtful as he took this information in before he nodded his head in acknowledgement and leant down to pick up the next item he was unsure about, which just so happened to be a tube of toothpaste.

As Desmond demonstrated how to brush one's teeth and promised to buy the older man a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste of his own, he thought of how this was going to work, what they were going to do, and why the hell the Apple had thought bringing Altair to the future was a good idea.

* * *

Omg, I am so sorry for waiting this long to update, I had half of this chapter written for so long and then I started Broken Where We Stand and basically forgot about this story, sorry. Please forgive me.

I know I only have two ongoing fics right now but I also have about 5 deviantart projects to deal with as well which are taking forever because I don't have a tablet and photoshop, gimp, poser and every other program I use actually hates me so much. Word has officially stopped working on my laptop so it's a good job I can just write straight into Fanfiction or you wouldn't have been getting any more updates at all.

Anyway, that's my little rant over. If I have a problem, I should just buy a goddamn tablet and get my laptop fixed at the electrical store that is literally round the corner from my house.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always, please don't forget to follow the story to be notified when I release the next chapter (next year at this rate) and review to let me know what you think or to suggest an idea or anything really.

I was only given "Desmond escapes Abstergo and goes to Masyaf when the Apple brings Altair to the future". That's all I have to work with, I don't know how long to make this or what to write about or anything, I'm literally making this up as I go along so sorry if some chapters seem a bit lacking (every chapter so far).

If you want a story that's actually planned out with a ridiculously long and detailed plot then don't forget to check out "Broken Where We Stand". It's an Altmal fanfic that follows the story of Malik's life from when he was ten years old on his first day of Assassin training, to old age (because fuck Abbas).

Vale,

Vitacazzo


End file.
